Page 76 of Tipping Point

The longer I’m quiet, the worse it gets.

The air grows thick and sluggish between us. It’s hard to breathe and I can’t take my eyes off her face, but she looks down at her feet, her cheeks flushed.

Her embarrassment eats at me. Makes me furious.

“Cam?” It’s Jay’s voice, calling down the hall.

It startles us.

She swivels and makes to leave, but instinctively I grab her arm.

She turns on me vehemently.

“What do you want from me?” she asks. There are tears in her eyes, and she drags a hand over her cheeks angrily, wiping them away.

I want you to walk away from me without pain.

I say nothing.

She scoffs at me and walks away.

If she leaves now, I’ll never speak to her again. The thought is unbearable. I catch up to her and Jay when their feet crunch over the gravel on the way to the car.

“Passatelli in Brodo,” I say.

“What?” She turns to me, crossing her arms.

Jay is hesitant to get in the van, waiting for Cam.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. But I just can’t accept this is the last time.

I need a chance to make it right between us, then I’ll walk away. When I’m gone and she thinks of me, I don’t want her to be embarrassed.

“I promised you Passatelli in Brodo, that day on the plane.”

She’s standing there, speechless.

“Monday.”

“You aren’t available on Monday,” she says sardonically.

“Not for filming.”

“What?”

I shake my head.

“Finn!” She’s angry, confused. “I have to go.”

She walks round the van and jumps in the front, slamming the door. Jay doesn’t linger. He sets off immediately, gravel spraying in the wake of the van.

I watch them drive away.

So this is how she will remember me. I deserve it. I watched her in my house, the place I come to shut out the world, and she stepped into every room, trailing her fingertips over the soft linen on my bed, stepping out onto the terrace to have the breeze tug at her curls, soothing her sensitive skin from the day outside. She had taken a sip of wine and swirled it around in her mouth absentmindedly as she breathed in the herbs on the evening air and she had been respectful, reverent of everything in this house.

It had driven me wild, the ease with which she stepped into this place.

I spend the rest of the night doing my new pre-race ritual, the one where I think of Camille until I’m furious. Until I’m nothing but tethered fury and despair.